


A Contusion of the Heart

by ClareGuilty



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 02:25:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14251059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClareGuilty/pseuds/ClareGuilty
Summary: Jesse can't stand the thought of another man laying his hands on you. You try to convince him that everything will be okay.





	A Contusion of the Heart

**Author's Note:**

> This is more McCree smut because that's the trash I like. I tried writing this one in the present tense, but I don't know how successful that will be. Reader is injured in this fic, and that does play a role, but it's nothing to extreme and it is handled in a healthy way.

“What the fuck are those?” 

McCree’s harsh question interrupts your careful process of maneuvering toothpaste to the tip of your wrinkled an crushed tube. You turn to look at where the cowboy lazes on your unmade bed, meeting his astonished gaze as he points to the backs of your legs. Craning your neck, you look over your shoulder to see what has drawn his attention.  
You are not yet dressed for the day and are standing before your sink still in your sleep clothes.  
McCree had rudely awoken you a few minutes earlier by letting himself into your room well before your scheduled alarm for the day. The intrusion was appreciated, but you had just returned from a long and difficult mission the night before and had stayed up for several more hours to finish your mission report. The few hours of sleep you had managed to steal were fitful and not enough for you to make it through the upcoming debrief.

The holey t-shirt you had slept in had bunched up at the small of your back, revealing your cotton underwear; you are unfazed. Being undressed around McCree has not been a source of embarrassment or discomfort for you in a long time. You realize what McCree is worried about when you see, blooming from under the elastic band of your underwear, deep red and purple bruises crisscrossed with harsh, scabbed, scratches. Dispersing down to the backs of your knees, the bold marks paint a rough landscape of pain. You know without looking that the marks extend up the small of your back and probably across your sides as well.

“Those are from the mission last night.” You explain, “Shit went sideways and I got into a pretty nasty brawl with a talon merc. He _really_ didn’t want to play nice.” You grimace at the memory of rough hands and a toothy sneer and turn back to your abandoned toothbrush. The pain from the bruises is more noticeable now that you have seen the results of the mercenary’s attacks, but it’s nothing you can’t handle.

McCree moves off the bed, coming to kneel behind you and carefully inspect the damage done to your backside. The fleeting thought crosses your mind that this is certainly not the kind of thing real couples do, but you also know that you and Jesse could never have any kind of normalcy in your lives. You spit and rinse your toothpaste, turning and pulling Jesse back to his feet.

“I’m fine.” You assure the cowboy, “These kinds of things happen.” He isn’t convinced. His large hands clasp around your shoulders and you lock your eyes with his intense gaze.

“Sweetpea,” He begins, “I don’t like the idea of you coming home all bruised up like this.” He pulls you into his chest and you relax into his embrace for a moment.

“It’s the job, Jesse. Sometimes we get hurt.”

“I just can’t deal with the thought of losin’ you out there.” He pulls you in tighter. “Maybe we could see about reassignments? Put you on the evac team? Something a little safer.” 

Your reaction is instantaneous; you tear yourself from Jesse’s arms and glare up into his concerned face.

“Hell no.” Your voice is adamant and final, “I’m not leaving the strike team.” You cross your arms and widen your stance. Who does Jesse think he is, suggesting something like that?

“Baby,” He pleads, “I just want to keep you safe. I don’t like worrying about you all the time.”  
You scoff at his selfishness.

“Do you know how hard I’ve worked to get here? I’ve trained my ass off for _years_ to join Blackwatch. You can’t just take that away from me.” Your voice is harsh, and Jesse winces at the truth in your words.

“I’m not tryna take this away from you. I just want you to be safe.”

“I’m a trained assassin who works for an international black ops division. ‘Safe’ is not in the job description. I knew that when I signed on for this. I don’t _do_ ‘safe’.” You step into his space, ready to argue.

McCree is silent for a second, you use the opportunity to continue.

“You think I don’t worry about you every time you and Reyes go off the grid for weeks on end?” You demand. “You think I don’t lose sleep wondering when you’re gonna get shot next? Or lose another limb, for God’s sake? Have I ever asked you to stop fighting? You have no right to tell me what I can and can’t do if you’re gonna do the exact same shit to me.” Your voice is more shrill than you want, but the look in Jesse’s eyes shows that something you said must have hit home.

“Shit, Darling’,” He looks at the floor, ashamed, “I didn’t even think about it like that.”  
You stand your ground, stubborn as always.

“I’m sorry.” He apologizes, “I shouldn’t have asked you to do somethin’ like that. It wasn’t fair.”  
You give in, cupping his stubbled jaw in both of your hands.

“It’s ok, Jesse.” You assure him. “We’ll just have to worry. It’s all we can do.” He places his large hands over yours, rubbing his thumbs over your bruised knuckles.

A gentle kiss is placed on your forehead, nothing more than a brush of lips and stubble. You run your hands down Jesse’s chest, your fingers catching on the buttons of his shirt. He chuckles as you grip his hips, sweetly caressing your cheekbone and nuzzling into the hair on your temple.

“Be careful, Darlin,” Jesse warns softly in your ear, “If you get me worked up, I might get carried away.” You smirk and push your hands under his shirt, running your palms over his hard muscles and coarse hair.

“What if I _want_ you to get carried away?” You whisper, voice breathy. Jesse’s eyes widen in shock, pupils dilating instantaneously.

Calloused fingers pinch the hem of your t-shirt and pull it up and over your head. Shock registers on McCree’s face as he takes in the full extent of your injuries from the night before.

“That motherfucker… ” He growls, teeth clenched.

“Is dead.” You assure the cowboy, “Genji and I made sure of that.” He meets your eyes for half a second and you shudder from the heat in his gaze, the feral possessiveness that burns there.

A gasp falls from your lips as he grips the flesh your ass, fingers digging into the bruises that already lay there. You whimper at the unexpected pain.

“You’re mine.” The growled words shoot down your spine land exactly where Jesse wants them to.

“I’m yours.” You breathe, pressing your hips into his.

“Is this okay?” Jesse asks, meeting your eyes and dragging his short nails over the scabs on the backs of your legs. You nod and throw your head back, reveling in the staggering sensation. Your hips are lifted, legs wrapped around McCree’s waist as he carries you to your bed. He lays you on your back and quickly tears your underwear from your body. You squirm as Jesse places a series of open-mouthed kisses across your limp form. A wet trail is laid from your collarbone, down your ribs, over your hip bone, falling in between your thighs and rounding to the flesh of your ass, leg raised over McCree’s shoulder.  
“I hate seeing these marks. Seeing the evidence of someone else on your skin.” The words are hot against your skin, raising gooseflesh under his breath. “If it were up to me, only I would be allowed to mark you like this. Claim you.” He punctuates his statement with a press of metal fingers into your bruised skin, laying over an already existing purple handprint.  
You whimper at the sensation, his words making your head spin and your core throb. The heat pooling between your legs is very quickly becoming unbearable and you ache for stimulation, for any kind of relief. You’re sure you’re dripping onto the sheets by now, and you plead for Jesse to do something, anything.

“Please, Jesse,” You whine, “I need you.”

Jesse stares at your heaving chest distractedly for a second, enraptured by the rise and fall. A wicked gleam creeps into his eye and you groan as he stands, moving away from the bed.  
His fingers are tantalizingly slow as he undoes the buttons on his shirt, the garment pooling on the floor after several moments. His belt slides out of its loops at a snail’s pace, and you moan at his teasing. You reach between your legs, craving sensation, cold fingers pressing against the flushed skin.

“Look how needy you are.” Jesse drawls. He finally steps out of his jeans and boxers, moving to stand over you, fully nude. “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you.” His kiss is hungry and demanding. You revel in the taste of him, cigars and whiskey. His length lays between your bodies, pressed against your thigh; you reach to stroke him to full hardness, his groan into your mouth encouraging to move faster, to squeeze harder. With several gentle bites along your jaw and collarbone, he adjusts so that your slick pussy lips run along his shaft. The friction is heavenly, and you know he sees your muscles tense and twitch at the heat on your clit.

Heat overwhelms your pussy as he runs his length between your lips. Your hips roll and your walls clench around nothing, craving to be filled. Stimulation on your clit causes your back to arch and your abs to clench, your head falling to the side as you fist the sheets under your hand.

“Fuck darlin’,” McCree breathes, one hand trailing over the bruises on your side, “I love seein’ you like this, all fallin’ apart for me.” His other hand reaches up to lay across your neck; your pulse races against his palm, and your breathing becomes even heavier. He doesn’t apply any pressure, just lets the gentle weight rest on your skin. 

Everything you can perceive is _Jesse_. Your eyes rove over his body, his broad shoulders, the definition in his figure. His eyes are gleaming with want and lust and love, his mouth curled up in a mixture of a smirk and a grin. You reach out and trail your fingers down his jaw, the roughness of his beard a familiar texture under your hand. He takes his cock in his hand, pressing the tip to your entrance and teasing at the quivering muscles there. Eyes widening in anticipation, you entwine your fingers in his hair and try to pull him into you by hooking your leg around his waist. 

Taking you by surprise, Jesse grabs both of your wrists in one hand and uses the other to lift you off the bed. Your head spins as you are suddenly flipped onto your stomach. Jesse wastes no time in grabbing the abused flesh of your ass, pressing his thumbs into the marks there. A series of noises escape you, and you grab at the bedsheets and grit your teeth. You feel Jesse’s cock at your entrance; this time he slowly presses into you. The stretch sends you into a shock that causes your whole body to tense. Complex thought suddenly becomes difficult as your mind grows hazy with pleasure.

“Fuck, baby,” Jesse’s voice echoes vaguely, “I can’t hardly control myself.” And he doesn’t. His thrusts are rough and brutal against your raw skin. You can’t help but cry out as he pounds into you. One hand stays firmly gripped on your ass, the other reaching to tug on your hair. 

The sensations flood your senses, overwhelming you, but not enough to push you over the edge. From your position on your stomach, you can’t reach your clit, so you teeter on the edge as McCree seeks his own end. 

“Fuck, darlin'. I’m close. I’m so close.” The words spill from Jesse’s lips as his pace quickens and grows more erratic. You feel his climax, clenching around his walls as his cock twitches and warmth spreads within you. He leans over your back, breathing heavy for several moments.  
The feeling of his cock sliding out of your wet pussy makes you shudder, and you cry out when his fingers dip between your legs to rub your clit as his come drips down over his hand.

Gently, you are rolled onto your back. Jesse slips his come slicked fingers into your heat and sets a furious pace against your clit. You come violently, one arm clawing into his shoulder and the other curled at your side, head thrown back and mouth open, legs shaking and hips bucking erratically.

Jesse doesn’t stop right away, driving you to a second climax immediately after the first, an orgasm so intense your vision goes black and your body feels weightless. When he does pull away, you shiver and twitch with violent aftershocks. 

A towel is dampened. You are wiped down. Jesse very carefully climbs into the bed next to you and pulls you to him. Several long minutes pass before you are able to speak.

“We’re gonna be just fine.” You smile and gaze at Jesse’s warm, brown eyes. He returns your smile and you decide that _this_ is where you feel safest.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I would really appreciate any constructive criticism, and if any of you have requests for future works that would be great!


End file.
